Work Text:
*Beep*
He groans.
*Beep*
Rolls over and rubs the sleep out of his eyes.
*Beep*
Scowls at the noisy machinery.
*Beep*
“I’m up you blasted alarm clock!”
*BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP*
~SMASH~
“Bad time for a visit?” Hermione’s voice drifts in from the living room. He hadn’t noticed her arriving. Rolls his eyes and gets out of bed.
“No, I’m fine.” Harry yawns, slipping on a pair of pyjama bottoms that had been left in a pile on the floor before heading into the kitchen, knowing Hermione will follow. He puts two pieces of bread into the toaster and fills the kettle, then collapses into a chair and sighs. “I’m just tired.”
Hermione purses her lips at the sight of the untidy kitchen, empty beer bottles scattered about the counter tops. Gingerly picking up a dirty tea towel off another one of the chairs, she drops it to the floor and sits down opposite Harry. “This isn’t healthy you know Harry, it’s been over a month since Ginny left –”
“What’s that got to do with anything?” Harry says, scowling at the vase of dead and decaying flowers that lies between them. They’re the only thing he has to remind him of the few short weeks she lived with him.
“You know perfectly well Harry, look at this place!” Hermione replies sharply. “It’s a mess, as are you.”
“I’m fine.” Harry grumbles, standing to take the toast out of the toaster and munching on a piece dry. “Just need to get more sleep and tidy up a bit. I promise I’ll give the flat a clean this afternoon.” He pulls two mugs out of a cupboard, “Coffee?”
Hermione shakes her head. “I can’t stay long, just wanted to invite you to dinner tonight. It’s only going to be a small thing, and Ginny won’t be there.”
Harry doesn’t answer whilst he adds two spoonfuls of instant coffee to a mug, followed by a liberal amount of sugar and the water needed to turn it into an actual drink. Holding the cup up for a moment to breathe in the scent of the coffee, he turns back to face Hermione. “What time?”
“We’ll eat at seven thirty, but people will be arriving about seven.” She stands up as well. “Smart casual dress, it’s not a proper dinner party or anything.”
Harry takes a long sip of the hot drink. He knows exactly what the evening will be like – a small group of couples, most likely Ron-and-Hermione, Neville-and Luna-and either Dean or Seamus with their latest significant other, and then himself, the seventh wheel. Up until last month, there would have been eight of them – they’d have had Harry-and-Ginny as opposed to just Harry. But that wasn’t going to happen again, might as well get used to it.
“I’ll be there.” He smiles at Hermione, trying not to let any possible unhappiness at the thought of the evening to show on his face. It’s not Hermione’s fault that she’s content with life at the moment and he isn’t.
She beams. “Good.” Kisses him on the cheek. “I’ll see myself out.”
He nods and turns back to his coffee, sighing and slouching as soon as he hears her floo out. He loves Hermione, he really does, but he really doesn’t want to go to dinner with everyone. Everyone’s so busy moving on with their lives by being in a relationship, and obviously that hasn’t worked for him. So soon after his break-up with Ginny, which granted, he could sort of see coming, he really doesn’t want to be surrounded by happy couples. At least, not all of the time. And he knows what the evening’s conversation will end up with – “Oh Harry, is there not anyone you would consider asking to join us for dinner next week? We so hate you to be unhappy, it really is time for you to settle down properly and it’s so unfair that you’ve had the chance taken away from you.”
The empty beer bottles strewn around his flat are his response to that – no, there isn’t anyone, hence why he’s stuck on his own in the flat most nights. He knows that really he should make some sort of effort to find a nice girl and start dating again, it would make everyone so happy and he’d fit in more again but… well here he is.
Finishing his breakfast and wiping the crumbs off his hands onto his pants, Harry stands, yawns and stretches. He’s not got a great deal to do today, but he might as well get it out of the way now rather than rushing through everything later just before dinner. Until this morning the only thing on his agenda was to visit Teddy, but he supposes he now has to add a quick visit to one of the shops as well – it wouldn’t do to turn up to a dinner without a date and a gift. One might excuse the absence of the other, but taking neither was too much like admitting that dreams of a happy stable life had finally been defeated. Picking up a quick bottle of wine on the way back from seeing Teddy was a must.
Taking a quick shower to wash away the final remnants of last night, Harry’s mind turns to his godson. He’s reached the stage where, Merlin, can he be a handful, but Harry adores him non-the-less. The highlight of his week has always been their Saturday playtime, and in the last month he’s appreciated their time together even more. It’s hard to feel down when being hugged by a small child who loves you unconditionally. At the same time, Harry is glad to visit for another reason. When he’d first moved into his flat on leaving Hogwarts for good, he’d offered to take in Teddy permanently, to give him more of a father figure than a godfather figure. Andromeda had laughed kindly, and assured him that she was more than able and willing to look after Teddy, and that whilst it was lovely of Harry to offer, he needed the chance to have a life before he started raising children. Two years later, Harry had to admit she was very, very right. He loved the boy, don’t get him wrong, but having witnessed a few of his tantrums and just how difficult it is to look after a child full-time, Harry knew that he couldn’t do it. In fact, at the moment, not only could he not do it, he had no desire to do it. Visiting is good enough for him.
This is another way in which he seems to be differing from his friends at the moment – everyone is settling down into families. Sure they’re only couples at the moment, but he can certainly see Ron and Hermione having children within the next few years. After the disruption and destruction caused by the war, people just wanted peace and happiness, and to rebuild what had been broken, mostly family. And Harry does want a family. He does, really. Just things don’t seem to be going in that direction for him at the moment, it isn’t working out, and being surrounded by people constantly talking about domestic life and acting all couple-y and comparing the colours of their bathroom tiles…
He might make that two bottles.
~~~
“Harry! Right on time mate, come in, come in.” Ron’s handshake is firm, the clap on the shoulder as hard as the grin on his face is wide. Harry thinks that he’ll check for a bruise later. He grins back and hands over the bottle of red wine he’d bought on the way over. He has no idea if it’ll go with their meal or not, but in all likelihood it won’t be drank tonight, so it doesn’t really matter.
Moving away from the door into the flat, Harry takes stock of who’s there. It seems he was almost right – Neville and Luna are there, but that’s all there is. He’s both thankful and a little annoyed. On the plus side, there’s less couples surrounding him. On the down side, that means many more chances for someone to ask him when he’s going to ask someone out. Oh well.
“Only us for tonight,” Hermione says, handing him a glass of white wine. “I said it was going to be a small affair.”
Harry smiles and accepts the drink gratefully. “What’s the occasion? Something must be going on for this to be such a private occasion.” Hermione loves to host dinners, this was practically empty compared to usual.
Hermione grins and reaches out to hug Ron around the waist when he approaches. “Funny you should ask that.” Ron says, kissing the top of Hermione’s head and looking at her lovingly. “We do have something to tell you.”
Hermione holds out her left hand. The excitement lighting up her face is almost as bright as the shine from the small diamond on her finger. “We’re engaged!”
“Congratulations!” Harry couldn’t be happier for the pair, and sweeps them both into a hug at once, miraculously not spilling his drink in the process. “That’s so wonderful.”
Neville and Luna exchange a conspiratorial glance. “Congratulations,” Luna says airily. “Actually we were going to give some similar news ourselves, but we wouldn’t dream of taking away from special moment for the two of you.”
Hermione’s eyes widen as she takes in the sapphire gracing the other girl’s hand. “Luna that’s wonderful!” She exclaims, leaving Ron to go and hug the other couple. “We can help each other out with planning and everything; oh it will be so much fun!”
Harry offers his congratulations and wanders off to the kitchen to find himself something stronger to drink.
~~~
Nursing half a pint of beer in a small establishment close to his flat in central London, Harry watches the other customers from his position at the bar and wonders about their lives. Muggles, most of them. Not that he knows how many have magic, but there’s something in the air that tells him he’s not the only wizard around. How happy they all look, how carefree – none of them have had to worry about wars or losing so many people or actually dying. They’re mostly people his own age; groups of girls, groups of boys, mixed groups, very few obvious couples. He’s yet to spot a ring on anyone’s finger.
They all look so young. Do none of them have families and responsibilities to go home to? Harry’s only here for a quick drink before he goes home, and only because he can’t stand to go straight back to the flat – yet to be tidied – and the reminder that a month ago he was also a part of a ‘happy family’, that a month ago he’d thought he was settled down. Can he picture any of these people with children?
Noticing two men dancing together in one of the corners, Harry snorts and shakes his head. These people are much too young for children; they’re too focused on having fun. He’s much too young for children, and he’s been focussed on settling. He finishes his drink and places it on the bar with a soft thud. Debates whether to have another.
A noise behind him causes him to turn before he can attract the bartender’s attention to pay, and he turns to see that the two men from earlier are now dancing right next to him. Harry’s eyes wander over their clothes, their torsos, their faces…
Their faces…
“Malfoy?” Harry blinks. Knows he hasn’t drank that much.
The men turn, and Harry knows without a doubt that it is indeed Malfoy.
“Potter.” Malfoy frowns, but for once the name isn’t said venomously. The other man, dark skin, just a little shorter than Malfoy, nods in greeting. His face is also familiar. They’ve stopped dancing.
“What are you… how are… what?” Harry’s face shows his confusion better than his mixing up of words could. What on earth are they doing here, dancing in a muggle bar?
Malfoy sighs and turns to his companion. “Come on, let’s go.” The two make to leave.
“Wait!” Harry calls out, getting up from the bar stool but hovering awkwardly since he can’t move too far from the bar lest they think he’s trying not to pay. “Don’t go. Can I… can I get you two a drink?” He has no idea why he’s asking, all he knows is that he’s not seen either of these two boys since he left school and he doesn’t want to wait another two or three years before he sees them again.
They stop and share a glance, before the dark skinned man nods at Malfoy and they return to where Harry’s still hovering by the bar.
“All right then Potter,” Malfoy eases himself gracefully onto a barstool on one side of Harry, “If you’re buying.”
The other boy moves to Harry’s other side. “Blaise Zabini” He says smoothly, offering his hand for Harry to shake. “I doubt you’d remember.”
Harry shifts uncomfortably. “I recognised you. I’m just not very good with names.”
Malfoy laughs, slightly unkindly, and gets the barman’s attention. “Three double southern comfort on the rocks.”
Harry bites his lip. “That’s a bit strong don’t you think? I might just have another half pint.”
Zabini looks at Harry incredulously. “Strong? It’s Saturday night! How old are you – twenty or two hundred?”
“Well I’ve already had a few glasses of wine and half a pint.” Harry shrugs. He’s not against the odd strong drink, he just wouldn’t normally end the night with them. Certainly he has no aversion to getting drunk, but that’s in his flat, normally whilst watching the television.
“So Potter. We’re here. What do you want?” Malfoy asks, nodding thanks at the bartender who’s just slid the drinks across.
Harry picks up one of the drink and sips it. His eyes water and he has to suppress a cough, but it’s got a pleasant taste. He sips again. Obviously he’s stalling. What is he meant to say? That he’s missed the two and couldn’t wait to catch up with them? That’s an obvious lie they’d both catch before it even began. They may have parted on slightly better terms than they spent the first seven years of their acquaintance, but slightly better terms was still a heck of a long way from ‘good’ terms.
He sighs. It’s going to have to be the truth. “I have no idea.”
Zabini snorts and downs his drink in one go. “That’s such a wonderful reason to stop people from leaving a place.”
Harry frowns. “Well it got you a free drink didn’t it?” He takes another sip – really starting to like the taste – and decides he’s got to say something more. “I suppose… I suppose I wanted to ask what you’re both doing here, in a Muggle club. I’ve not seen you since,”-the war-“Hogwarts.”
Malfoy raises an eyebrow. “Not that it’s any of your business, but we’re here… living.”
Harry’s eyes widen in surprise, and he coughs as the southern comfort goes down funny. “You’re living here in Muggle London?” He asks, wanting to clarify what Malfoy meant.
“Well, sort of that too,” Malfoy said, pursing his lips. “What I said though was that we’re living. We’re only twenty for Christ’s sake, and neither of us really had the chance to be teenagers.” Of all the things to note out of what he’s just said, Harry muses; he would pick up first on the fact Malfoy’s using Muggle expressions. He shakes his head and focuses on the rest of what Malfoy was saying.
“What do you mean ‘we’re only twenty’? Surely it’s we’re twenty, so shouldn’t you be at home with your girlfriends or fiancées or families?” Harry asks. It’s what he’s expected to be doing after all. Dinner parties with couples then home for a cup of hot chocolate or similar before bed. But obviously he’s missing a partner, so his routine is off. That’s living isn’t it?
Zabini gives Harry an incredulous look. “You can’t honestly be that dim Potter can you? You saw us dancing together, I know you did. We don’t have girlfriends; we’re together.”
Harry blushes and looks down at his drink, only half drank. “I… I really didn’t know.” He can’t believe he didn’t realise; they were dancing pretty close to each other.
“And why should we be at home?” Malfoy asks, motioning to the bartender to bring them more drinks. “Drink up Potter, you’ve got another coming.”
Harry looks at the drink as if he’s never seen one before. He’s so confused. He only wanted to come here and have a quick beer before going home. Now it seems like he’s settling into drinks with Malfoy and Zabini, isn’t he? Sighing and shrugging, he lifts the glass and downs the rest of the amber liquid, grimacing as it burns his throat.
“I don’t know,” He decides to respond to Malfoy’s question, although it may be rhetorical. “That just seems to be what my friends are doing at the moment though. Everyone’s in a serious relationship, in fact Ron and Hermione and Neville and Luna just announced this evening that they’re getting married and –”
“Wait,” Zabini interrupts, a slightly confused look gracing his features. “They’re all getting married together? I had no idea they were into that sort of relationship.”
Harry’s startled into a genuine laugh. “No! No, Ron and Hermione are getting married, and Neville and Luna. There’s going to be two weddings.” He’s not felt so light in a long time, and the thought of the four of his friends all in a relationship causes his giggles to continue. He doesn’t notice Malfoy pushing the second drink towards him, but picks it up and drinks from it absentmindedly. “But yeah, they’re all getting married and they’re moving towards their dream jobs and their perfect homes. I’m sure I saw Ron looking at picket fences in a catalogue the other day, but he denied it when I asked. They keep asking when I’m going to ask someone out so I can settle down and be able to join in properly with their couples nights and dinner parties discussing couple-y or family things.”
“But why?” Asks Malfoy, aghast. “I mean sure, relationships are great,” he gives Zabini a small smile, “But why are they so obsessed with being old already? We’ve got our whole lives ahead of us for ‘settling down’. Why would they want to do it now?”
Harry shrugs, slightly uncomfortable. He feels a bit bad talking about his friends like this as they, after all, he’s always wanted the same. “Well we all had to mature really didn’t we? With the war and everything. We’re adults so why not act like adults?”
“Because we never had the chance to be children,” Zabini says, finishing his second glass of alcohol. “I mean, look at the rest of the people here. Can you imagine them with suit-and-tie jobs, kids on the way, worrying about mortgages or whether so-and-so mows their lawn properly?”
Harry looks. He has to admit, he can’t see it. They all look like kids, but he knows most of them are probably older than him. Turning back to Zabini, he has to ask, “Why would they worry about whether someone mows their lawn properly or not?”
Zabini blushes and looks away, mumbling something about “Watching Desperate Housewives.”
“Don’t you ever just want to have fun Potter?” Malfoy asks, sounding for once like he’s simply curious. There’s no malice in his words, it’s a simple, honest question.
“I don’t not have fun,” Harry protests, although probably not as vehemently as he should be. He does have fun. It’s just… sometimes it feels like there should be more. Up until now he thought the something more was a relationship since he didn’t notice it so much when he was with Ginny, but…
But if he admits it to himself, he felt like this when he was still with Ginny. Yes, he wanted to be part of a happy family, painting the fence as white as it could possibly be, having quiet nights in with friends, hosting dinner parties and not just going to them. He still wants that. But something in Malfoy’s tone suggests that he means fun in some other way, not just in the ‘I’m content with my life at the moment’ way.
“I don’t not have fun,” He repeats, “But…”
“But when we got here, you were shocked at the idea of drinking spirits this late at night, when it’s not late and it’s a Saturday. And don’t take this the wrong way, but from the way you’ve been clinging to the bar since we’ve been here, you’re obviously not used to this sort of place.” Malfoy finishes.
Harry’s eyes flicker in surprise. “You knew I was here?”
Malfoy looks slightly uncomfortable and can’t meet Harry’s gaze properly. “Well, yes. We were hoping you would leave before you spotted us though.” He says quietly.
“Oh.” Harry’s voice is soft, and for some inexplicable reason, he’s hurt. “Oh, well then, please don’t let me spoil the rest of your evening.” He fishes a few notes from his pocket, and places them on the counter. “I should probably be getting back anyway.”
He doesn’t notice Malfoy’s slightly pained expression or Zabini’s pointed look at the other man.
“Potter, wait.” Malfoy reaches out a hand as Harry stands. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
It’s a lie, obviously. How could Harry forget that he had been sat there talking to Draco Malfoy of all people, someone he didn’t like and who definitely didn’t like him. And whilst he didn’t really know Zabini, the boy had also been a Slytherin and was Malfoy’s partner, so if that didn’t place him fairly in the “dislike Harry Potter” brigade, he doesn’t know what does. They clearly don’t want to sit there listening to him talk about his friends and whether or not he has fun, and he doesn’t want to impose himself on them any longer. It’s a shame; he’d actually been enjoying himself.
He offers the two men a tight smile. “I really do have to go, it’s late. It was nice seeing you again.” He says, before fleeing the building as fast as he can.
~~~~~
He’s just getting out of a shower the following evening when there’s a knock at the door. Harry gives the mirror a sardonic look, shouts for whoever it is to wait a moment, and wraps a towel around his waist. No doubt it’ll be Hermione, coming to check up on him. He’d fire-called her earlier, but left quite abruptly when she brought the conversation yet again to him finding a girlfriend, even going so far as to tell him about a singles night that was being held at the Leaky Cauldron that night – “Everyone needs somebody to love Harry.” He’d barely given her the chance to say goodbye when he closed off the floo in annoyance. Love. He’s getting sick of it. So far all it’s ever done to him is hurt him and make him feel like an outside amongst his friends.
Shaking his hair to get the excess water off, he leaves the bathroom to open the door, still clutching the towel around his waist. Hermione can just wait a few moments once she’s in whilst he gets dressed. It’s happened before.
It’s not Hermione.
“Um,” Harry stares at the two men, blushing and clutching the towel tighter around his hips, “What are you doing here?”
“That’s not very polite Potter, aren’t you going to invite us in?” Malfoy asks, walking past Harry without waiting for said invitation. Zabini grins as he follows.
Harry closes the door and turns around slowly, rather bemused. “Come in?”
“You didn’t need to leave so suddenly last night.” Malfoy says over his shoulder as he walks through the apartment, looking around curiously until he reaches the living room. “We were afraid there’d be a confrontation if you saw us, that’s why we were hoping you’d leave before you spotted us. Trust me, if we hadn’t wanted to sit drinking with you, we wouldn’t have done so.”
Harry follows the two, shaking his head in confusion as they make themselves comfortable on one of the couches. Only when he notices Malfoy smirking and Zabini continuing to grin at him does he realise his state of undress. Face going a fairly bright shade of red, he mumbles his excuses and runs to the bedroom. Dresses in a pair of slightly tatty jeans and a slim-fit black t-shirt. Shakes his hair again.
When he emerges, barely two minutes after he first fled, Malfoy is settled in front of the television and Zabini is nowhere to be seen.
“He’s in the kitchen.” Malfoy says, turning to look at Harry over the back of the sofa, “Getting us drinks.”
“What’s going on?” Harry asks, walking further into the room and hovering by the settee, not sure whether he can sit or not. Which is stupid, he thinks, because it’s his home.
“Law and Order’s about to start, duh,” Zabini re-enters the room, carrying three glasses each containing a familiar amber liquid. “Sit down Harry, your legs will get tired standing like that.”
Harry sits on the couch, leaving as much distance between him and Malfoy as he can. He doesn’t want to seem rude, he’s just very bewildered. He takes the glass that Zabini passes him gratefully, and drinks half of it straight off. Malfoy gives him an amused look and shifts so that when Zabini moves to sit on the floor he can rests his back against the sofa rather than Malfoy’s legs.
And then the show starts, and Harry finds himself relaxing. He’s amused by the witty remarks the two men will make every now and then, he’s enjoying the show and the smooth taste of the southern comfort once you get past the coughing. When he notices Malfoy’s hand absentmindedly playing with Zabini’s hair, he smiles, feeling surprisingly warmed by the gesture.
All too soon the program ends, but the drinks keep flowing, and the three slip quite easily into conversation.
“And then I said, darling, I would love to meet Foofoo, but that’s a clutch purse, not a poodle.” Harry bursts into laughter with the conclusion of Malfoy’s retelling of a ball he and Zabini had attended a few weeks ago.
“Gosh, I wish I’d seen her face when she realised.” He says, wiping away a tear that had started to fall from one eye. He sighs, happily, and lets his head drop back against the back of the couch. Jerks upright again when his head lands on Malfoy’s hand. He hadn’t realised he’d moved closer.
“We should probably get going,” Zabini says from the floor, yawning. “It’s fairly late.”
Malfoy nods and stands up, holding out a hand to help the other man up. As Zabini rises, he pulls himself closer to Malfoy and for a moment they’re lost in each other’s gazes. Then Zabini shoots Harry a glance, flashes him a quick grin, and gives Malfoy a brief kiss, before turning away and picking up the empty glasses. Harry can’t help but smile. He’s amazed at how much he doesn’t mind being around the two when they’re acting couple-y, whereas he can’t stand being around even Ron and Hermione when they act like that. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that neither Malfoy nor Zabini have spent the evening asking when Harry’s going to find someone. In fact, love life of any kind, his or otherwise, has stayed out of the evening’s conversation completely. Harry can’t remember the last time he felt less stressed.
“Potter,” Malfoy says after a moment. “We’re going to get lunch out tomorrow. You’re welcome to join us.”
Harry starts to nod, but something stops him. He frowns. Speaks quietly but firmly. “Malfoy, what’s going on? Why are you both acting so friendly? We didn’t exactly part on wonderful terms last time we saw each other.”
Malfoy stays silent for a moment, watching Harry’s face as if he’s looking for something. When he speaks, it’s equally soft. “When you stopped us last night, you weren’t how we’d expected. You didn’t cause a scene, didn’t try to start a fight.” He watches as with great effort, Harry bites back a comment about Malfoy starting an equal number of fights when they were younger. “Blaise and I have grown up Potter. We’re not the same people we were a few years ago. And knowing that we’ve changed, it wouldn’t be fair to you not to give you a chance to show that you’ve changed too.”
“Have I?” Harry eyes flicker up and meet Malfoy’s, and for a few brief seconds there’s silence, except Harry’s sure that his heart has started beating louder.
Malfoy actually blushes and looks away with a faint smile. “Well I wouldn’t really know, would I? I doubt we actually knew each other very well at Hogwarts. You have grown up though – a few years ago you wouldn’t have invited us to stay for a drink, you’d have thrown one in our faces.”
Harry laughs. “I would have, wouldn’t I?”
Malfoy flashes him a quick smile, but his face turns serious again very quickly. “And, Potter, don’t take this the wrong way. When we were talking to you, you weren’t bad company, but…but you don’t seem to be very happy.”
Harry frowns. “I’m perfectly content with my life at the moment.”
“No, you’re not Harry.” Malfoy says gently. Harry stares for a moment. It’s the first time he’s ever heard Malfoy use his first name. “Anyone who talks to you for more than five minutes like we did last night can see that. You may be content, but you’re not happy. You’ve got to stop worrying about what your friends think about you finding someone to settle down with, and start living.”
“That’s what you and Zabini did?” Harry asks wryly.
But Malfoy nods. “Yes. That’s exactly what we did. Throughout the whole war, I tried to live up to people’s expectations of me. And it was killing me, you saw me in sixth year. And afterwards, Blaise and I were passing through Muggle London on the way to a dinner and I remember seeing a group of teenagers sitting outside of a café, just laughing and having a drink, not a care in the world. And I realised that none of us had the chance to do that. Yes, I know there was a war on. But we spent all those years when we should have been having fun doing what other people wanted us to do, and then we come out of it and do what other people want us to do? If that’s the case, when do I ever get to do something I want to do?”
Harry gives him a small smile. “You seem to be doing that at the moment.”
Malfoy nods. “Exactly. Blaise and I bought a place in Muggle London, and we’re going to spend the next however many years of our lives doing what we want to do.”
“And what we want to do at the moment,” Zabini says from where he’s been stood by the door, letting Harry and Malfoy have their little heart-to-heart without interrupting, “Is get to know you better.” He grins. “It can’t hurt, can it?”
Harry bites his lip. “I suppose not.” So far they’d just made him watch television, drink copious amounts of strong alcohol and talked to him. And it had been the most relaxing time Harry could remember in a long time. “So… lunch tomorrow?”
~~~~~
Lunch tomorrow turns into a film on Friday night, followed by Law and Order again on Sunday. Soon he’s meeting them two or three times a week for lunch – Zabini knows a small place near Hyde Park that does the most amazing sandwiches – and both film night on Friday and television on Sunday turn into a regular occurrence. After almost every lunch, Malfoy drags Harry and Zabini into the Apple store so that he can spend an hour or so playing with all the gadgets there. Harry learns that due to the amount of magic they use in their apartment, the two men are unable to use too many electrical items, so they don’t have a computer, but Malfoy is becoming rapidly obsessed with the technology. Whilst Malfoy plays, Harry and Zabini talk to each other, and often end up chatting to the shop assistants. Harry’s slightly embarrassed by the fact that after only three weeks almost every member of staff knows him by name. He thinks it’s a sign that they spend too long there, but Malfoy’s face lights up so much when he learns how to do something new on the computer, that he never complains. Just shares a warm smile with Zabini.
About two months after he met them in the club, Harry knocks hard on the front door of Draco and Blaise’s apartment. Not sure when his mind started using their first names. He’s just spent the afternoon with Ron and Hermione, and desperately needs his Slytherins. They’d spent the afternoon discussing the wedding mostly, talking about flowers and colour schemes and all sorts of things that Harry thought he really shouldn’t be that involved in discussing but nodded along anyway. Then Hermione had brought up yet again the fact that he should bring a date, and it went downhill from there.
“Stupid interfering witch.” He muttered as he waited for the door to open. “Who needs love anyway?”
“Spent the afternoon with Weasley and soon-to-be Weasley?” Blaise asks, having opened the door to hear Harry’s question. He gives Harry a comforting grin and steps back to let him through, before guiding him into the living area with one hand resting gently on the small of Harry’s back.
“I’m happy!” Harry exclaims, throwing himself down onto sofa next to Draco, turning to use the man’s lap as a pillow and the arm as a footrest. Not unlike lying in a psychiatrists chair. “Why would I want to go out to singles nights and joining societies ‘to meet people’ when I’m just going to feel awkward and uncomfortable and I would much rather spend the evening with the two of you.” He doesn’t spot the conspiratorial glance that the two exchange. “I don’t need love, I’ve got those heavenly sandwiches, and television, and alcohol, and… argh. Why can’t they leave me alone?”
“You know, maybe she’s right, maybe there’s something to be said for settling down. Maybe you do need a date for their wedding.” Blaise says, moving to perch on the arm of the chair next to Harry’s feet. Harry frowns and glances down at the man, bites his lip as he worries a little. Do they not want him around anymore? He could sort of understand that – he probably doesn’t give them enough alone time.
Sensing the direction Harry’s thoughts were turning, Draco was quick to speak. “Maybe it’s not a date you need…” He pauses, and searches for something in Blaise’s eyes. Blaise smiles and nods. Harry glances up at Draco, confused. “Maybe it’s two.”
Before Harry can process what was just said, Draco is leaning down and pressing a soft kiss against Harry’s lips. It’s firm but gentle, and lasts just long enough to suggest that more could follow, but all too soon Draco breaks it and sits back, leaving Harry blinking.
“Uh…” Harry looks to Blaise, who’s moved to sit closer to the two on the couch. But Blaise just grins, and leans down to place another kiss on Harry’s lips. Harry’s heart had warmed when Draco had kissed him, but now it felt like it was going to burst.
“I’m confused.” He says as soon as he can speak again, looking at the two with a bewildered but hopeful expression.
“We like you.” Draco says, running a hand through Harry’s hair. “So we agree with Granger’s suggestion of settling down. Just not with someone you met at a singles’ night.”
“Yeah, who needs love?” Blaise says flippantly, grinning to show he was obviously joking. “You’ve got us now.”
Looking back and forth between the two to make sure he is certain that this is what they want, Harry beams and pulls both of them down towards him. As Blaise and Draco share a quick kiss, Blaise’s words ring in his head. “You’ve got us now.”
Yes. Yes he does.